


Night Terrors

by Hinawadidntdie4this



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, victor has tiny hands and you cant change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinawadidntdie4this/pseuds/Hinawadidntdie4this
Summary: Victor still sees his face sometimes. In dreams and in waking.(this is 100% self-indulgent fluff *shrug emoji*)





	Night Terrors

Victor wakes up with a cry in a cold sweat; there are fat tears running down his cheeks, although not for the first time in the span of some short weeks, he notes to himself through his distraught haze. He is panting and shaking from the impact of his dream, in which he saw his loved ones’ eyes glazed over in death and permanently frozen in fear for a second horrible time. Hearing a knock at the door, he sits bolt upright and stares at the offending area with a wild, sort of frenzied look in his eyes. He can do nothing but whimper quietly in fear behind clenched teeth as the door is opened slowly. The majority of the tension leaves him in a warm sigh, however, when the familiar face of Walton appears in the doorway washed in warm light from the hallway behind him. “You were crying out in your sleep, I came to see if you’re alright.” His voice is like honey to Victor in his disorientation, and he finds himself leaning in towards the sound. “I- yes, I’m alright. Just a night terror, is all.” he manages although his voice still scratchy from sleep and overuse. Walton takes a few steps into the room and in the dimness away from the hallway light, Victor notes with grief, he looks strikingly like Henry.  
Victor averts his eyes then, turning them downward to try and choke off the tears he can feel rising like bile. The sheet that covers him is bunched up in his hands tightly, trembling with the rest of his body. He starts slightly when Walton’s hand covers his own two and looks up to see his companion’s concerned face, his endless dark eyes searching Victor’s own. “Victor, I’m worried about you, dear.” his voice is soft and Victor closes his eyes. “Will you tell me if you’re really alright?” The boy in question hesitates a moment before nodding slowly, turning his face downwards again. “You just… remind me so terribly of him sometimes. He was softer than you, though. Made of poetry and sugar. Hadn’t ever experienced the arctic wind and toil of running a ship as you have…” Victor laughs then, but there is little joy in it. He doesn’t need to say a name for Robert to understand who he is talking about. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for saying so.” his voice is very choked. He feels the bed dip beside him as his dear companion sits down, pressing his lips to the smaller man’s temple. “Of course, Victor. I know you’re still grieving. Anyone would be. You needn’t worry about me.”  
Victor turns then and curls into him, tucking his head under Robert’s chin and allowing those overdue sobs to wrack his body and repressed tears to wet the skin there. They remain like that for a number of hours, although it seemed like far more to Victor at the time. When his breathing slows and his sobs subside he’s left with a sense of calm and an exhaustion that settles into his bones. “Thank you, Robert. I love you.” he mumbles sleepily into said man’s chest, allowing his eyes to slip closed and a rare smile to grace his features. Robert laughs softly and presses a kiss to the top of Victor’s head. “Of course, Victor. You know I love you too.” before shutting his own eyes. Neither of them worry about the hallway light that is left on or the door that is left open, nor the morning to come. The only thing important to them now is each other, and maybe the sound of rain beginning to sound on the roof while they drift.


End file.
